Here Comes Yet Another Day
by Nina La Vough
Summary: Thinking he'll find closure, Woody unwittingly stumbles on a secret that will change his and his brother's lives forever. WoodyCalJordan.
1. Just Can't Go To Sleep

Disclaimer: We don't own them. If we did they'd be totally screwed up.

Nina is being piloted this time by MADAMBETH and jmkw.

FYI: As with all of Nina's stories, this fic was not written overnight. It has been in the works for awhile. Because of that fact we did not include the change from "Man in Blue" and are sticking to the original scene of Woody's father's death. As Madambeth says, "Liquor store is code for gas station..."

_

* * *

BANG! _

"_Sir! Stay with us sir!"_

"_SIR!"_

Woody jumped in bed with a start, the sheets tangled around his long limbs and sweaty body.

With a glance at the clock he let out a sigh of mock delight at realizing it was an hour later than he usually woke up to the nightly re-enactment of the shooting. At the time he had assumed he would die. He had to laugh now at the poetic license his mind had taken that day, damning himself to the same fate his own father had met.

He often wondered nowadays what his father had looked like that terrible night so many years ago. Had he been scared? Why on Earth would he have turned his back? Was it a point blank shot or from across the room? Had the shooter taken purposeful aim at that spot the bullet hit him right below his heart and through the soft tissue of his left lung?

Finally sick with all of the unanswered questions Woody grabbed the phone punching in the familiar Wisconsin area code and hoped his old buddy Pete was still the same workaholic he'd been when they were deputies together.

"Yes is Pete Myers on tonight?" Woody asked clearing his throat and running a hand through his sweaty, spiked hair. "Yeah, hey Pete….yeah, yeah it's Woody how are you doing? Uh huh….great, well actually this isn't a social call…I was hoping you could get your hands on some evidence for me out of storage…".

"Wha? Woody, man, what could you possibly need out of evidence storage at 3 am?" Pete asked rubbing his forehead as he leaned against his desk.

"It's a tape from a case about 16 years back or so." Woody said starting to get irritated by all of the questioning.

"16 years? And this absolutely could not have waited until a decent hour of the work day?" Pete yawned.

"It's from the gas station the night my dad was killed." Woody spit back angrily. There was a long moment of quiet before Pete said anything. Before he could though Woody stood from the bed and began to pace. "Don't over think this man, just go get the tape and send it to me okay? I…I'm ready to see it."

"Woody…I don't know if I even CAN send it to you…and I mean, do you really think this is the best idea?" Pete asked lowering his voice to a stage whisper.

Woody stopped and put a hand on his hip stiffly. "You know what Pete? Send it don't send it, I'll call someone else if you won't help me, I've….I've just had some….stuff going on in my life and I feel like a need closure on all this stuff with my dad and all…I just…just send it to me okay man?" Woody said trying his best to sound calm.

"It'll take me a few days to make a copy and send it. Think you can resist calling and yelling at me until then?" Pete finally relented.

"Yes…definitely, thanks Pete, I owe you one." Woody said before hanging up the phone and wondering how early was too early to go to the gym at the precinct.

* * *

It had been half a year since Woody was shot but the sting was still there for both he and Jordan. Hell, it was practically the only thing they would have agreed on anymore if they actually talked to each other for anything other than work. 

"Hey Jordan autopsy two.." Garret said from the door to her office but raised his eyes when he saw the look on her face. "You okay?" he asked walking in and shutting the door behind him.

Jordan wasn't okay but she couldn't admit that aloud. To say something was bothering her would mean putting a name to that 'something' and that name, more often than not these days, was Woody.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay…just uh..just kinda vegging ya know? I'll be right there." She said pushing some papers around and standing from her desk while trying her best to avoid Garret's dubious gaze.

"Well you know if you wanted to talk he's not getting any more dead so.." Jordan cut him off with a frail raised hand.

"I'll be right there." She said grabbing the bottle of Tylenol that had become a companion to her over the past months. Whether for head or heartache she couldn't be sure but if the wished it hard enough she could usually manage to fool herself into believing that there was no painful aching in either. She tossed two back and took a deep cleansing breath before heading down the hall to autopsy two.

"Oh, hey.."

If she had been uncomfortable thinking about Woody only minutes ago, Jordan only became moreso when she was confronted with him directly moments later in the autopsy room.

"Hey…what've we got here?" she asked only glancing at him briefly before returning her attention to the tools in front of her as Woody explained the details of the case and she alternately tuned him out and began the autopsy.

By the time she'd finished to a point where she could kick Woody out with a promise of calling when she found anything Jordan gave up for the day. She went back to her office making her best efforts at pretending that something that was bothering her hadn't even crossed her mind that day much less her autopsy room for the past few hours.

* * *

As Woody left the morgue he flipped out his phone and called his buddy Pete for the third time in two weeks, his patience faltering with each apparent run-around his friend gave him. 

"I'm sorry Woody but you can understand my hesitance right? I mean…I made the copy and all but…" Pete trailed off halfway through their conversation.

"He was MY father Pete, I deserve answers as much as anyone." Woody whispered sharply as he pulled up in front of the 19th precinct. "Please…just… send it to me at the address I gave you the LAST time I called." Woody said shakily, almost pleadingly. "Please Pete.." he said again and he could hear his old friend's affections taking over.

"I'll send it out tonight…but only if you swear on your old man's good name that you're sure about this…." He finally said in a sigh.

"I Swear…Thanks Pete, I knew you wouldn't let me down." Woody smiled and hung up the phone as he retreated into his office behind a closed door.

* * *

Six states and a million emotional miles away Calvin Hoyt sat at a bar milking a ginger ale for all it was worth and regretting the years he'd spent with his nose in the bottom of a bottle. There were a lot of things he'd done to disappoint his brother but being sober was one he swore he'd never give up on. He'd hurt Woody too much and put him through too many years of worrying to ever lapse back into a life he himself already regretted more than anything. 'Well almost anything'. He thought and looked up as an old friend sided up to him at the bar and took a stool. 

"Hey, Cal, how are you doing?" Pete Myers asked tapping the bar for the tender's attention and asking for a draft. "Oh sorry, do you mind if I drink?" Pete asked holding a hand up to Cal.

"No..no, drinking's my problem not yours, I'm doing okay, how are you Pete?" Cal asked taking another long sip of his soda.

Pete took a long drag off of his beer before answering. "I'm good…I'm good. You know it's funny seeing you here, I've talked to Woody a few times on the phone in the past few weeks. He doing okay? He sounds kinda on edge." Pete asked concerned.

Cal lowered his head and sighed. It was bad enough that he hadn't seen his brother in nearly a year and even worse that he hadn't even had the guts to go see him when he was in the hospital with a gunshot in his belly and facing possible paralysis. When Jordan had called him the night of the shooting Cal had made some lame excuse about not being able to take time from work. He knew Jordan could smell that one from Boston but he knew he just couldn't face Woody yet, especially lying in a hospital bed having been shot.

The memory of the last time he visited someone he loved in the hospital was still far too fresh on Cal's heart for him to face it again.

"He was shot…about uh..6 or 7 months ago. He's okay now but I think he's probably still a little wigged out. Why'd he call you if you don't mind me asking?" Cal asked turning to Pete with furrowed brows. He could tell something was wrong as Pete began to shift in his seat.

"Well now that you've told me that what he called for is making a little more sense to me.." Pete said quietly and took a longer drag off of the beer he was grasping. He turned to look at Cal and then turned back to his beer before he answered.

"He wanted me to send him a tape…the tape from the gas station the night your old man was…" Pete trailed off in that quiet way again and it was Cal's turn to shift uncomfortably.

"Oh….so I mean you didn't send it to him did you?" Cal asked feeling a steadily growing lump in the pit of his stomach. The lump got larger as Pete opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"I just sent it off before I came in here.." he said finally. Cal nodded after a long few minutes and stood paying for his soda.

"It was good seeing you Pete." He nodded with a pat to the other man's shoulder before he walked out of the bar.

Ten minutes later he was walking towards home with 5 beers of a six pack in one hand and a half empty can of Old Milwaukee in the other. It took him nearly 17 years and lots of alcohol to even think he'd forgotten about that night his father had been shot. Now that he had finally gotten to a place in his life where he thought he could put it all behind him his brother had gone and dredged it all up again. Those feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, and most importantly, guilt suddenly came rushing back to Cal like his first shot of whiskey.


	2. Moving Pictures

It was after eleven by the time Woody trudged up the stairs of his building to his apartment.

After so many weeks going from being laid up in the hospital, to be punished in rehab, to be locked up with in the walls of his apartment, Woody was content with his life of freedom. He was up and out by 6 AM and only returned when he couldn't stay awake any longer.

Tonight was such a night. That restlessness that kept him wired had nothing to do with the amount of caffeine he was consuming. He couldn't put his finger on it, so he just choose to say it was his new lease on life. At least that sounded good when he felt those strange looks from his colleagues on the back of his neck.

One of these nights he knew he's be too tired for the dreams. After the day's stack of mind-numbing work, Woody hoped this would be the night.

But he knew that would be impossible when he reached his door and saw a manila colored padded envelope propped against his door. His heart fell when he realized it was too small for a video tape but picked up again when he noticed the familiar block handwriting and return address from the Kewaunee County Sheriff's Office.

Fumbling with his keys, Woody picked up the package and stumbled in the door, flipping on a light. This had to be it. Confused, he ripped open the package expecting to see a note saying the tape was damaged and Pete was unable to make a copy. What came out was a DVD in a jewel case that looked like it had rode around in the bed of Pete's old truck for a year or two.

Taped to the side was a note that read:

_Here's that thing you wanted. The tape was pretty well used up to start with. I dubbed it with my new DVDR dual deck that Sharon got me for Christmas. The next time you are in town you need to come over and see my new system. It's fucking unbelievable. I'm a very lucky man. My wife is not only hot but she loves to watch football on a big screen. _

_Pete. _

Woody let himself smile at Pete's note. Too bad he never saw himself taking Pete up on his offer. The images on that disk were to only thing he had left in Kewaunee. Woody knew once he put this particular ghost to rest Kewaunee County, Wisconsin would be just another place on the map.

Tapping the case on the top of his refrigerator, Woody opened the door to see what was left inside. Outside of a half drank case of longnecks there was nothing but a bottle of ketchup and the petrified remains of a half eaten meatball sub. His stomach growled thinking of the little tubs of home cooking that Lily gifted him with for the first few weeks after his parole from the hospital. He groaned thinking about the way he treated her. The way he's treating everybody. He made a mental note to call her in the morning to give her a long overdue thanks her for her kindness.

_tap ,__ tap ,tap _

Until then he had more pressing, longer overdue business. Catching sight of the jewel case he shut the refrigerator door. His stomach could wait until later.

Woody powered up his PC. He wasn't sure what he had. Unconsciously he hoped the smaller screen would keep it in perspective. Impersonal. After all, this was just another piece of police evidence. At least that's what he told himself, but he still had a hard time loading the disk in the drive, let alone press play.

He had to pour himself a scotch to get the job done.

The video was grainy. Not unlike every other convenience store feed he's ever seen. He recognized the girl behind the counter. She was a few years ahead of him in high school. He couldn't remember her name and he never saw her again after the funeral. It looked like she was thumbing her way through one of those tabloid magazines; the kind that proclaim the end of the world and welcome alien babies. The door opens and she shoves it under the counter along with the ashtray at her elbow. Woody grins wryly at her innocence. Looking at the timer on the corner of the feed her world was about to be rocked by the very two people that just walked in the door.

Woody was a little taken back by their appearance on the tape. Seventeen years ago those two kids were the closest things to pure evil that he had ever seen. But that was before he put on the badge and looked into the eyes of the very Devil himself more often then a person should have to. Now, on the plasma screen of his laptop they looked like what they were; two strung out strangers just looking for trouble.

Woody watched as they began to engage the clerk. He could almost hear her. Her testimony from the trial echoed through his head.

She asked them if she could help them when the shorter of the two asked for a pack of smokes while the shooter grabbed a six pack out of the cooler. She rang up the purchase even though she knew she should ask for an I.D. Woody stared as the cash drawer opened and the gun was pulled.

Woody took note of the timer, marking the minutes until his father would walk in the door. She never had time to call the police. The Kewaunee County D.A would state that the Sheriff had just gone off duty and was heading home to his motherless children. Fate would have it that he'd stop at the Quik-mart for a gallon of milk. Woody doubted the milk part of the impassioned speech. The odds are his old man stopped to pick of a six pack or two. Woody's eyes are glued to the door. Nothing yet. A flash of light, a shadow or two. Probably the headlights of the patrol car as he pulled in. Did he know? Did he realize what he was walking in to? Woody downed the rest of his drink. The perps knew. The shooter held his gun tightly against his thigh as the door opened.

His face was hidden by his hat. The same Dudley Doright hat that sat on top of his casket. He tipped it back slightly as he asked what was going on.

Woody leaned closer and squinted. Was his weapon unsnapped and ready? Was that the difference between taking a bullet and taking care of the situation?

"You son of a bitch," Woody growled at the screen. "They're armed damn-it. It's not time to play Officer Friendly. Take them out! Now! What are you doing! DON'T...DON'T TURN AROUND! WATCH OUT! TAKE THEM...

...out."

It was over in a flash...almost anticlimactically in shades of gritty grey. Woody watched in shock as the hat toppled off his head as he slid slowly to the floor, his legs refusing to give chase, a quickly growing dark grey stain growing across his back. He noted the time because it was a matter of record: The moment the call came across the police radio, _'officer down, request back up'..._ The last words Woody's father would ever speak.

"Officer down, request back up!" His voice snapped like bullets in the empty room. "You were dieing Pop! Christ, you could have said something like 'tell the boys I'm proud of them. Tell them I love them'"

"... then again," he snorted, "We never heard you say it before."

Woody slammed the lid of the laptop down and began to pace. "You God damn fool."

That little voice inside his head asked "Which fool?"

He chose to ignore the deep feminine quality of the voice. Jordan was someone he didn't need to think about right now.

"Just shut up," he said hoarsely.


	3. Too Much On My Mind

When Woody didn't show up for work the next morning his sergeant, who was very well aware of the rumors spinning around about the young detective and a certain gorgeous but troubled M.E., made a call over to the morgue to see if the pretty Dr. Cavanaugh had any clue where he might be.

"Woody didn't show up for work today?" Jordan asked sitting up in her chair concerned.

The sergeant's answer was a short laugh. "I practically gotta kick the kid outta here every night and then all of a sudden he doesn't show up today. I thought maybe since you two are so…close and all…you might be able to tell me where the hell he's at." He replied.

Jordan sighed. They were about as close these days as Japan and Australia. "No no, I mean, I haven't heard anything from him today…he isn't answering his home or cell?" she asked concern rising.

"No ma'am. I guess if you don't know where he is I ought to send a uni over to check on him then, thanks for your time." The sergeant stated and Jordan caught him before he could hang up.

"Wait..I mean, no sense in tying up an on duty officer, I can take my lunch early and run over to see if he's there." She said and the sergeant casually agreed, happy to have one less thing on his full morning plate.

* * *

On the drive to Woody's apartment Jordan grew more and more anxious. She wouldn't have consciously noticed it except for her foot putting more and more pressure on the gas pedal the closer she got to Woody's neighborhood. 

Why wasn't he in work? What happened that would have made him just not come in without a call? Why wasn't he answering his phone if he was there? These and a dozen other questions had her racing for the other end of town where she hoped Woody would be.

"Woody?" Jordan called through the heavy door as she knocked hard several times. "Woody it's me are you home!" she bellowed louder and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a shadow moving slowly in the light under the door. She smiled hesitantly as he unlocked the door but it faded quickly when she was confronted with a squinty eyed, scruffy faced Woody. The usually passionate bright blue of his eyes even looked dull as Jordan stood looking up at him.

"What do you want." He said hoarsely.

Jordan startled at the harsh tone of voice. "I just…wanted to see if you were okay, your sergeant called me and said you didn't come in this morning………are you okay Woody?" she asked softly and reached out to touch his face but he pulled away.

"Swell..thanks for asking." He said starting to close the door but Jordan put a firm hand on it.

"Woody…what happened? Please let me in, I can try and help..just tell me what happened." She begged and he shook his head, the first emotions she'd seen on his face since the door opened a moment ago finally appearing in the form of watery eyes and a vein popping out of his scalp.

"He turned around." He choked out and shook his head.

"What? Who did Woody, I don't understand." Jordan asked gently and touched his face again. This time he didn't pull away but closed his eyes at the tender touch.

"Just go Jordan…I'm okay." He said and pushed the door shut with a click of the lock. Jordan opened her mouth to say something but she knew it would only be a waste of a breath.

Instead she raised one hand to the door and rested it against the wood gently, wishing she could reach out and help him up from whatever dark place he was most definitely in. But things hadn't been good between them for some time and Jordan knew she played no small part in that.

With one last stroke of the door she lay her head against it before she turned to leave, her footfalls becoming more and more distant in the ears of the man with his head and hand still resting on the other side of that door.

* * *

The rest of the day Woody spent lying on his couch, staring out the window. In his peripheral vision he could see the blur of old family pictures hanging on the wall. 

One of he and Cal playing with cars in a large pile of dirt their father had bought to fill in the garden but never made it further than the side of their house where the boys had made it their own personal dump truck heaven and one of their dad in his usual nightly spot, stretched out on his recliner with a can of beer and a game or two on the tv.

One more picture over and Woody was face to face with a strikingly younger version of his father, army fatigues on and a bandana tied around a head of hair that rivaled Bruce Springsteen's in his heyday. His father was smiling, maybe even laughing in the picture, probably feeling on top of the world. A new recruit in the Army, an army that tried to make it's men feel like it was their privilege to die for their country in this war that took so many lives. A war that these men returned from broken, empty and many a stranger to their own families.

Woody knew his father never talked much about the war but it wasn't until after he died and his uncle told him about how his father had been when he first returned home.

'_Well what snapped him out of it Uncle John? He was…pretty cool when we were little before Mama died..'_

'_Well see Woodrow, your pop moped around for a few years, feeling sorry for himself and finding no particularly good reason to care about much of anything at all until he met this BEAUTIFUL tall brunette that could melt the ice in the Arctic with one look…' _

Woody finally cracked a smile at the next picture. His mother. Her long brown hair and smiling eyes all but a very distant, locked memory to him. His smile faltered and his eyes cast away from the photo momentarily. He didn't remember her. His own mother and all she was to him were pictures and stories he would occasionally get out of his father. He'd let her down in not being able to keep her memory alive. He let his father down in not being able to take care of Cal and letting him slip down a hole their father had tried so hard to keep Cal out of.

But then their father had let them down too.

"Why did you turn around Pop?" Woody asked the empty room in a whisper and glanced back at his computer screen.

* * *

"Woodrow, what can I do for you this fine night?" Nigel asked trying to be light as the brooding detective stalked towards his desk in the morgue. 

Everyone had been walking around Woody on pins and needles for so long that they almost didn't know what to do without a healthy bit of tension in the room on a daily basis.

Luckily for them Woody's new devotion to detail in his work had him stopping by the morgue on cases sometimes two or three times a day.

Woody held out the jeweled case of the surveillance camera from the gas station to Nigel.

"I need you to see if you can digitize this surveillance video, see if there is anything anomalous about it, anything jumps out at you and I need you to do it ASAP." Woody said without a greeting.

Nigel raised an eyebrow and turned the case over twice looking at it. "Oooookay..what is it mate? Case you're working on?" he asked putting the DVD aside with a flippancy that made Woody's blood boil.

He clenched his fists at his side and tried to relax knowing Nigel had no idea what was on the tape. "Yeah, a very important case so be careful with that." Woody said pointing a finger at the disc again.

"Well if it's from a case couldn't they give you the original? That'd be a lot easier to work with than a copy.." Nigel said looking up at Woody a little frightened.

"No. They could only give me a copy right now…"Woody lied. "Just….just see what you can do okay? Then give me a call as soon as you're through." He said shortly and started for the elevators.

"Wait, Woody…are you alright chum? You look like you've seen a bloody banshee." Nigel said standing and putting a hand on Woody's shoulder. "Jordan said you weren't in work today, she's worried about you…we all are.."

"…I'm fine Nigel…just call me when you find something." Woody said shrugging off his hand and heading down the hall.


	4. A Face in the Crowd

"Woodrow," Nigel drawled propping his feet up on the edge of his desk as Woody opened the door to Trace.

"Let me see what you've got." Woody said reaching out to pull a file off of Nigel's desk.

Nigel was quicker. He snapped the papers away from Woody's reach and put them in a spot out of reach. "You tell me. I just spent the last eight hours analyzing eight minutes forty, two seconds of sixteen year old convenience store security feed...Funny, the Boston Police Department has no record of an officer...or anyone wearing a uniform being shot in a convenience store on that date. Neither do any of the other local departments. So unless you are telling me you've got a lead on Jimmy Hoffa... you had better start talking."

The corner of Woody jaw throbbed he held his temper. For a moment Nigel thought Woody had called his bluff. That was until Woody cleared his throat.

"...it was a gas station, in Wisconsin. The officer was my father."

As the implication of what Woody was telling him settled in so did a wave a deja vu. Four years ago he was in a similar situation with Jordan performing his magic to help her find answers in her mother's murder. Nigel also remembered how that turned out. He looked in the other man's eyes and saw the same pain, the same questions. In the subsequent months of Jordan's search, he relived those series of events and swore to himself that he'd do things differently. He would barter his career and reputation for a friend even again. But faced with the same haunted look, Nigel realized he would do it all again.

And so he did.

He sat up looking over his shoulder to make sure they were alone and click his mouse. The computer screen replayed the scene both he and Woody analyzed repeatedly. Abet for totally different reasons.

"Alright, what I assume we have here is a digitized copy of the original..."

Woody nodded almost absent mindedly. He was too busy watching the frame by frame display.

"Normally,"Nigel continued. "Digital medium is more efficient to work with than the original analog tape but in this case whoever made this copy used a RWE dvd to make this copy."

"RWE?"

"Read, write..erase." Nigel held up the scared jewel case that contained the copy that Pete had sent him from Kewaunee. "This copy was recorded over something else. From what I can make out it looked like Christmas morning someplace very snowy..."

"Kewaunee." Woody said barely above a whisper. His eyes never left the images on the computer screen...His father had just walked in the door.

In the refined image Woody could make out his father's wedding band as the man tipped his hat back. Even a dozen years after his mother's death he still wore it. Still, he took it off every once in awhile...on those nights he'd drop Woody and Cal off at their aunt's to drive into the city for the night. It wasn't until years after his death that Woody ever understood thelittle practice of leaving his wedding band on his nightstand and spending the night in a motel somewhere in Green Bay. A small town sheriff couldn't exactly troll the local bars for a little companionship. But a lonely guy in the big city could usually find a kindred spirit to scratch that preverbal itch.

Woody was just now realizing how lonely his father real was.

"Did you see that?" Nigel said bringing Woody back to the present. He backed the feed up four frames and replayed it. "There." he said stopping it a few seconds before Woody's father would turn his back to the gunman.

Woody had to squint, but it was there. A shoe.

"My God, there was another witness." Woody said.

"Or an accomplice..."

Woody nodded. It explained everything. There was a third person involved. They distracted is his enough to let down he guard. But who? Who was it?

"Can you clear that up?"

"It took a little work, but I wrote an algorithm to fill in the pixels lost in transfer." Nigel said proudly.

With a few clicks of his keyboard Nigel enhanced to corner of the store window washing out the reflection and bringing into frame a acid washed pant leg and unlaced white high top...the uniform of every kid that year, including Woody himself.

But what stuck out was the color of the shoelaces. Even in the grey shades of the film Woody could tell they weren't the original white laces that would automatically come with the shoes. They were black. Just like John Bon Jovi used to wear. He could only name one other person who used to make the same fashion statement.

He must have blanched. It was serious enough for Nigel to notice. "Mate, are you alright?"

"...fine," he said as soon as he could find his voice.

"What is it?"

"I know who that is."

"Who?"

"My brother."

Nigel's deja vu had come full circle.

* * *

It was just starting to sprinkle as Cal's Greyhound pulled into the station in downtown Boston. He's only been to Boston twice and both times the weather was miserable as he was. He unfolded his lanky frame from cramped seat and waited for his turn to step off onto the curb to claim his bag. 

From city to city, the bus stations are always the same: Grey, dungy, and unpretentious. Cal knew without a doubt he could find a drink, a joint, and a game of chance all within its exhaust-grit covered walls.

Ironically, there was some level of comfort in that.

Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder, Cal debated on which direction to go. We bypassed the terminal and headed down the street. He'd worry about his return ticket later. First, he needed to find a place to stay.

Cal stopped at the first group of people he saw and took up a spot against the wall with them. Cal had spent enough time on the streets to know that there was no such thing as a stranger these forgotten parts of a city. It was all in the attitude and body language. It's the way business was conducted there every day. One of them was quick to acknowledge him by looking Cal up and down and commenting on hanging out in that kind of weather.

Cal knew the lines, he knew the game. He's played it enough. Not now, maybe later. Cal shook his head and simply asked if there was someplace cheap to stay.

A little put off by having his day interrupted for nothing, the man pointed down the street mumbling the name; the Remington Street Hotel. Cal nodded, it sounded like the kind of place he was looking for.

The Remington wasn't that far away. A sign proclaiming 'rooms to rent' hung between ones for a work force office and a liquor store.

"One stop shop," Cal thought grimly to himself. Not that long ago this would have been down right homey.

That was a lifetime ago.

Cal walked inside and knocked on the wall next to the caged desk.

"Hey! Hey! I need a room!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep your pants on."

Within minutes, Cal climbed the stairs found his assigned room. By the cockeyed fit of the key in the lock he figured the actual use of the key was just a formality. It didn't surprise him in a place like that. He didn't bring anything worth anything anyway.

Tossing his bag on the thin-mattressed bed and fished a dog-eared slip of paper out of his pocket.

Jordan Cavanaugh's telephone number.

He had asked her for it just to spin Woody up and in his heart of heart's he knew she had given it to him for the same reason. Wood was always so easy. Always...That was until last time...When he kicked his brother out of his life.

The last time he heard her voice was the night Woody was shot. He'd never forget the hurried message left on his phone, nor would he ever forget the haunted-sounding conversation he had with her the next day telling him that Woody would be fine.

Cal wanted to be there for his brother...and for her. He asked if she needed him to come out. Her cryptic answer confused him but he still didn't jump on the first plane. Now he was the one who needed help. He wasn't proud to admit he needed a buffer. What he didn't know was how Jordan and Woody's relationship had changed. Cal dialed. Jordan answered on the second ring.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan!"

"Cal?"

"Yes! Jordan it's good to hear your voice again," Cal said brightly. He hoped it wasn't too brightly. He relaxed at her laugh.

"Calvin! How've you been? How are things in Wisconsin?"

"I don't no, actually I'm here in Boston."

"Boston? That's, that's...wonderful." Her tone tempered her earlier amusement. Cal took a deep breath.

"I need your help." When she didn't answer right off the bat he continued. "I need to talk to Woody and after our last meeting I doubt he'll see me..."

"You don't know that Cal."

"Come on Jordan, you were there. He was serious. I wouldn't put you in the middle if it wasn't important."

"Cal, I'd help if I could but..."

Cal's heart dropped. "...But?"

"Your brother and I..." The line was silent for a moment Cal knew she didn't hang up because he could hear her breathing.

"_You're brother and I_ ...? You know what? Never mind."

Cal could almost see her squaring her shoulders. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

The pub Jordan suggested they meet was an easy walk from the hotel but the spitting drizzle left him wet and cold by the time he stepped in the door. One look around the quiet room and Cal knew she wasn't there. He looked at his watch. He was early. Cal found a stool at the end of the bar and ordered a cup of coffee. It was all he could do not to ask for a side of whiskey. This time he settled for just the caffeine and warmth. 

Jordan slipped into the door of the bar behind a customer who was just leaving. It didn't take her long for her to make out Cal's dark haired, tall silhouette from the end of the bar. There was no mistaking him Woody's brother. The way they held themselves was so similar. Maybe that was why they had connected so quickly. He was like an old friend...the Woody she first met; a little goofy, a little enigmatic, and a lot more troubled then he'd let show.

She walked up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Cal turned and she was greeted by a pair of distant, but smiling blue eyes. She didn't think twice when he stood up and enveloped her in a warm hug. She wrapped her own arms around his waist and leaned into him.

"Thank you for meeting me Jordan."


	5. I'm in Disgrace

Jordan nodded. "Sure, I mean ironies of ironies the last time I was here I was hugging your brother 'hello', not that I think that's going to be happening again anytime soon." She mumbled and took the stool next to Cal.

Cal regarded her for a long moment. She looked tired. The first time he met Jordan she'd looked the same way but she'd looked tired and content, this new Jordan was tired…and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What the hell happened between you two? Last time I was here Woody was defending you like his high school steady and now you're not speaking?" he asked shaking his head amazed.

Jordan sighed and rolled the bottle she'd just received between her palms. "I…I don't really know how to explain it except to say that everything's just fallen apart since Woody was shot." She admitted and Cal lowered his head.

"Of course I didn't do anything to help…" Cal said quietly and sipped his soda. "I should have come back...he was always there for me, ALWAYS and I didn't even come back when he got shot." He said shaking his head.

"I don't know that he would have accepted you Cal…" Jordan said trying to help. "Woody was in a really bad place after he was shot, with no small amount of help from me…we both….we said things…" she started.

* * *

Woody left the morgue feeling like he couldn't breathe. He pulled off his tie with shaky hands and climbed into his car trying to settle himself. He stopped and took a deep breath when he couldn't even put the key in the ignition. 

Cal was there that night. Woody thought he almost shouldn't be surprised but he was. For all of the bad things his brother had done in life Woody never thought…

He revved the engine once his hands finally worked to get the key in and bolted off down the road towards his apartment, still thinking about where it all went so terribly wrong. As he neared his building the answer wasn't any more clear but when he saw the neon lights of a bar he and Jordan had often gone to after work some nights he had an idea that he might be able to forget the question and pulled into the parking lot around back.

* * *

"So wow….I mean….wow…" Cal said when Jordan had finished her tale of the past several months events. "How'd it ever get this bad Jordan? I mean…I know but I just…I never thought you and Woody wouldn't be talking…you are probably the only person left in the world he legitimately cares about.." he said softly and shook his head. 

"CARED about…past tense." Jordan corrected with another swig of her beer.

"Jordan you can't…" Cal started but a surprised look and one word from Jordan cut him short.

"Woody…" she started but he was already stalking towards them. Cal sprung to his feet like a child whose name was being called at the principal's office.

Woody couldn't believe his eyes. Calvin, in Boston, in a bar, with Jordan. His nightmare couldn't get much worse.

"H…hey Woody, I got on the first bus I could out here and I…" he started but was suddenly stopped when Woody's fist connected with his cheek bone and nose. The bar was scarcely populated and a few people turned to see the commotion as Jordan told Woody to stop and helped Cal to his feet.

"You son of a bitch…you…you son of a bitch.." Woody stammered and looked menacingly between his brother and Jordan. "I don't EVER wanna see you again you hear me? You hear me?" Woody screamed in his face and turned on his heels stalking back out the door to his car. He may not have gotten his drink but he still felt a hell of a lot better than when he went in.

"Woody!...My God….Cal are you okay? Put your head up..there…like that.." Jordan said tilting back the man's head and pinching his bleeding nose. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up and maybe you can tell me what the hell that was all about. Where are you staying?" she asked.

Cal hissed and groaned at the throbbing in his face as she helped him walk out the door. "The Remington." He murmured in a nasally voice.

"The REMINGTON?" Jordan asked in shock and rolled her eyes. "Oh for God's sake Cal, we pull a body a month at the least outta that place..come on, we're going to get your things and I'm taking you to my place.." she said guiding him to her car and helping him into the front seat.

Jordan didn't bother Cal with questions on the way to the motel. She figured that with whatever had just happened between he and Woody, Cal had enough on his mind for the time being to deal with. She told him to stay in the car while she went in and got his things, giving the grouchy manager back the key and high tailing it out of there as fast as she could.

It wasn't until she had Cal inside her apartment and sitting on the couch while she cleaned up his face that she finally asked him about Woody.

"Sooo…" She asked blowing on the cut on his cheek after patting it with a cotton ball of peroxide. "Any idea what that was about or has Woody finally just completely lost it?" she asked dabbing the cut gently again and getting a band-aid for him putting it on gently.

Cal just shrugged and looked away.

"Well, if you don't wanna tell me, that's fine too.." Jordan said blowing lightly on the cut again before she placed a few butterfly strips gently over it. "But don't expect me to just sit back and accept what he just did.." She mumbled angrily and shook her head. "I cannot believe he did this to you, you're his brother…I just don't know what to do, how to help him anymore and I.." She was cut off by a long, resigned sigh leaving Cal's lips.

"I…I think he knows…" he whispered so softly that Jordan would have thought it was a child who said it if not for the man sitting before her.

"Knows WHAT Cal? I only want to help.." she whispered taking both of his hands in her lap gently.

* * *

Woody was tossing back his third beer, still sitting in front of the newly digitized video of that night. He'd begged his old friend to send it out to him, hoping to put to rest the demons that had haunted him for so long. 

He tossed his empty bottle towards the trashcan and shook his head with a mirthless laugh. What he'd gotten with that tape was a boatload of more demons. Ones that had seemingly severed the last ties he held to his family and former life.

Cal had been there that night. Was he involved somehow? Would there father still be alive if he hadn't turned his head to make sure his youngest child was out of range of the unfolding drama?

Woody opened another bottle, still hoping to numb away the pain that was now searing so deeply into his heart.

He'd raised Cal, feeling it was his duty to take care of his innocent, immature brother thereby finishing the job for their father. Little had he known that that innocent little brother was present at their father's death and had been maybe only 1 or 200 feet from the store when the shots rang out.

He hadn't returned, he hadn't looked back to see if his father was okay, instead he ran home, a scared child seeing the last parent he had, the only one he knew being ripped out of his life as well.

"He was MY father too you son of a bitch!" Woody screamed at the body-less shoe on the screen. "He was my father too." He said through his voice cracking slightly. Woody was so tired of being strong for everyone and so tired of holding everything in but he couldn't dig deep enough to let the tears come. Instead he opened another bottle but passed out on the floor before he could drink it.

* * *

"I…I'm the reason he's dead." Cal whispered in the space between he and Jordan's faces. He was surprised when she seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. 

"Jesus…" he said standing quickly from the couch and running his fingers through his hair. "You weren't kidding when you said you two aren't talking.." he said shaking his head and tried to think of a place to start.

"Okay…okay…" Cal whispered nervously as he paced the room holding a small baggie of ice to his cheek. "There was a video, from the night my…our…dad was shot. Neither of us ever saw it, I mean, no one ever thought we should or would want to but Woody always kind of…has.." he nodded and went back to sit beside Jordan to continue.

"Has he ever seen it?" Jordan asked softly, unable to keep herself from thinking of the image of her own mother lying dead on the living room floor when she was a child. An image that she was sure would never ever leave her.

Cal sighed and rubbed his forehead. His only answer was a slow nod.

Some things were suddenly more clear to Jordan. His missing work, being less personable than was usual with everyone, being purposefully hurtful to her.

"Oh my God, I should have known…I should have known something more was wrong he's been missing work, he's been treating me like crap worse than usual, his co-workers say he's more withdrawn…" she stammered and Cal remained silent.

"Wait…but so why did he hit YOU? Why did you show up here in Boston all of a su…" She stopped when she saw Cal's face.

"What was on that tape Cal?" she asked softly and put a hand on his arm.

Cal thought of everything he could say to her right then. He thought of every lie, every half truth he could tell her but for one of the first times in his life all he wanted was to tell the truth after bearing this cross for so long.

He lifted his eyes, finally, shakily to Jordan's and breathed one word; "…..I can only assume... me.." he said shaking his head.

"What do you mean you Cal? Were…are you saying you were there the night your father died?" she asked rubbing his hand gently.

Cal nodded slowly again as the tears began to form in his eyes. "Yeah…yeah umm…the only two people who knew were me and Pop though…but Woody must know now…he must have found out somehow…he told…he told me on the phone that Nigel had digitized it and found a shadow…I can only guess that I was that shadow…" he rambled and Jordan touched his shoulder.

"Woa, Cal..slow down man," Jordan said calmly. "I don't really know what you're talking about so let's start over.." she said nodding slowly.

Cal nodded with her and took a breath. "I….well you…" he said and stopped with a nervous laugh. "I mean I'm sure Woody's told you how I was into like drugs and stuff…alcohol...all that fun stuff you know.." he said with a dry laugh. "Well, it…it was kinda starting up when I was a kid, before my dad died…" he said quietly, never failing to feel that remorse every time he thought of how much heart ache he'd caused his father in his last years.

"I was drinking a little at 14…smoking with the older kids…he wasn't happy about me hanging around with them. He wasn't stupid, he was a sheriff, he…he knew exactly what I was hanging around them for you know?" he said softly and Jordan nodded with the sympathetic smile of a cop's child.

He paused for a long moment, setting the bag of ice aside before he went on. "Well…I was…there…at the gas station that night when he was shot." He admitted for the first time ever aloud.

"What do you mean you were there?" Jordan asked. "Are you trying to tell me you were involved in your dad's shooting?" she asked exasperated.

Cal quickly shook his head. "No..no well, not directly anyways…" he sighed and felt his eyes stinging with tears. "He saw me I guess on his way home from work…I was hanging out front with some ...people... and my dad's cruiser went by." He started. "I knew it was no use taking off, he'd hide me then or hide me later it was just a matter of time." He said with a short laugh.

Jordan nodded for him to continue.

"He pulled around the corner just as the older kids were going in the store…I don't know, maybe if they'd seen him they would have just run off or something but umm…but they didn't. " Cal whispered, reliving the night like he did so often. "They went in, Pop pulled up and told me to get my ass home, he'd deal with me…he could have just taken me home but he had to stop and get his six pack and his pack of smokes before so he just pointed down the street and told me to go." Cal sat back and took a breath before he went on.

"I wasn't at the corner yet when I heard the loud voices and turned to see my old man trying to talk the boys to their senses. I saw one of their arms go up…I saw the black of the gun…" he said shakily. "I….he didn't even think to go for his gun first but he looked back….he looked out the door and right into my eyes where I stood on the corner and I started across the street just as I heard the pop of the gun.." he said rubbing the tears out of his eyes. "I…I didn't know what to do…I just ran…I ran like hell until I got home. Woody was working at the supermarket…I had enough time to just…calm down and forget that I'd seen my father shot in cold blood…" he said and let the tears come finally.

"I'm the reason….I'm the reason he's dead Jordan.." he said covering his eyes and shaking his head.


	6. Hanging By a Thread

Woody stepped out from underneath the police tape. The cloudy drizzly morning did nothing for his hangover and the body that Bug just left with did nothing for his mood. Another kid. This one maybe 16. Witnesses were eager to step up and give his name...and extol his life in the street gang that claimed this corner of the neighborhood. But when questioned about the shooting itself they didn't see a thing. The odds are this crime would go unsolved leaving a mother without a child and a gang of brothers looking for revenge. 

It's days like this he really hated his job. There was really nothing left for him to do. The CSU were handling the scene and the Gang Unit was working the streets. He climbed into his car and head back to the morgue. He at least had a report to fill out.

On the way back he passed the pub and it all came back to him.

Calvin is in town...

...and had hooked up with Jordan.

Funny, he wasn't at all surprised to see Cal sitting at the bar. It fact, the last time he laid eyes on him he was in a bar with Jordan. Then again, Cal sitting at a bar with a pretty girl wasn't an uncommon sight to begin with. It would figure he'd grab the first bus out. Of course he was there to try an explain away what Woody found.

Seeing him only verified Woody's suspicions.

Hopefully he got the not-so-gentle hint and he was halfway back to Kewaunee by now. Woody's knuckles ached like hell. He could only hope Cal's face felt the same.

Woody rode the service elevator up.

Technically it was against the rules when it wasn't being used to transport a body but frankly he was in no mood to deal with live people right now. He was happy Bug caught the case. Bug had moved on from his biting sarcasm to professional indifference with Woody months ago. Most people did anymore. It was nice. He was able to do his job in peace and not have to those rhetorical questions that everyone asked during small talk. A few people still looked at him expecting an answer and looking at him with pity when he simply gave the politically correct response.

The worst offender of getting in his face was standing there when he opened the lift doors.

Lily, with all her sweet compassion, couldn't seem to leave a sleep dog lay when it comes to Woody. She is constantly yanking his chain, going out of her way to make him as uncomfortable as possible whenever they are in the same room. After last night he wasn't in the mood to be psychoanalyzed by Sally Sunshine.

"Woody! Goodness you scared me. What are you doing in there? I thought you were on the case Bug just wheeled through here..."

"That's were I'm heading...Where is he?"

He tried to walk around her...only Lily had a knack of making her petite figure seem like it was a mile wide. Woody was beginning to consider suggesting to Doc Rivers, of the Celtics, that he should scout her as a defense guard.

"Autopsy One... Woody, how have you been?"

"Fine Lily," he said as evenly as he could. "I would really like to be in there when Bug begins to cut."

Lily didn't even bat a lash...nor did she move an inch. "I see Calvin's back in town and he's got a pretty good shiner..."

"How...?" Woody glanced toward the hallway half expecting Cal to be standing right behind him. He wasn't, but with a sigh, Woody realized Cal was probably somewhere close. "Nevermind. Lily, as a friend I'm asking you to just stay out of this...please."

She flashed him a sad smile, "Because I'm your friend I can't. The offer's still on the table. I'm always here for you...if you ever need to talk..."

Woody looked at his feet. It was easier than looking in her face. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer Lily but this is...bad. I can't..."

Lily nodded she'd had this conversation with Woody more times than she can count...about as many times as she's had the similar conversation with Jordan. Now that Cal was here, and staying with Jordan, it seemed like the stakes had just gone up. It didn't take a trained eye to realize the wounds of the past were busting. Maybe now the abscess could be lanced carefully, thoroughly, squeezed until the poison was gone...for all their sakes.

Impulsively Lily wrapped her arms around Woody's frame and held on for dear life. For a second Woody was in shock. For a naturally physical person, it had been months since he's let anyone come close enough to touch him. The feeling was almost as foreign as it was familiar. He didn't dare return the gesture.

That was how Jordan found them.

"Excuse me," she said walking past. "I just left..." she reached for a folder on one of the counters and gave Lily a brave little smile before slipping back into the hallway.

"Jordan..." Lily called after her. She gave Woody a look off total exasperation and took off after her.

Woody sighed. Lily gave him that damn look of pity and all he did this time was stand there. Damn if he does, damn if he doesn't. Rubbing his hand over his face, Woody quickly regrouped and headed down the hallway to Autopsy One...

* * *

Jordan reentered her office and tossed the wayward folder on her desk. 

"I see you found it. Do you need to ...doing anything with it before we go?"

When it came to the complexities of an office environment Cal was a lost soul. Add the confusion of a city morgue and he was in a state of complete awe at how things were run.

The place seemed like a controled beehive of chaos when he stepped out of the elevator on the ninth floor a little over an hour ago. It didn't take long to see a familiar face. Lily Lebowski. Instead of the bright smile he remembered from his last trip to the morgue, he got one of shocked recognition.

"Calvin? Calvin Hoyt?"

At first Cal thought the story of his last visit was more of a common knowledge that Jordan had let on last night. She assured him that his involvement in the Albanian case was minimized. She tried to tell him that Woody didn't want to see him dragged through the courts. Cal assured him the only reason Woody buried evidence was because he didn't want his own name slandered. But when Lily rounded the front desk and looked him up and down...not in anger but in sympathy he knew Jordan was at least right about the story being contained.

"Lily...isn't it?"

"Yes," she smiled before she reached up and touched his face.

Normally, strangers touching him put Cal on the defensive, but before he and Woody had their fall out Woody would talk about this quirky woman and call her a good friend. He never had a female he could honestly call friend before...at least that was until he met Jordan. But still he wouldn't call what they had as friendship. It was more like a mutual problem bringing them together. Cal didn't flinch when she gingerly brushed the bruise on his face.

"Did you get the license of the truck that hit you?" she quipped.

Cal gave her as charming of a smile he could with half his face swollen and cut. He really didn't want to go in to the whole story with her. "Just the last four. I'm here to see Jordan. Is she here?"

"Sure, yes," Lily said. She signed Cal in and then escorted him down the hallway. "When did you get in? I'm glad your here. I 'm sure Woody's excited. He's been..."

"Last night and I wouldn't quite say he's excited," Cal said absentmindedly touching his face. "I'm staying with Jordan while I'm here."

"Really," Lily she said equably.

"I was staying in a place downtown called The Remington and she offered."

"The Remington! Your brother had you stay at the Remington!" Lily said in hushed outrage.

"He didn't know I was in town when I checked in. You know Lily, you seem like a really nice person and I really don't want you to get caught up in this right now..."

Lily nodded. Cal could almost read her mind. Lily was making a mental note to catch up with Jordan...or Woody as soon as possible. Cal hoped they'd keep his confidence. It was bad enough Jordan was dragged in the middle of his dirty laundry.

* * *

"Cal? Did you hear me?" 

Jordan's concerned voice brought Cal's rambling thoughts about Lily and back to the present. Apparently she said something and he wasn't paying attention.

"Pardon?"

Jordan's mouth flattened. "Cal, are you alright? That punch might have done more damage than we thought."

Cal gave her a lopsided smile that remained so much of Woody's it hurt. "My head's a lot harder than Wood's fist...trust me. It's been tested before...many times before."

"I was saying Woody's just down the hall. He answered a call this morning and has a D.B. in one."

"D.B.?"

"Dead body..."

"...oh."

Jordan looked through the piles on her desk until she found a take out menu. "Frankly, I don't think either of us are in the _mood_ for one of his moods. Would you mind if we just hung out in here for awhile? We can order take out and you can tell me more about what's going on."

Cal nodded and Jordan picked up the phone. Never to fussy about food, especially when someone else was treating Cal let Jordan order. She hung up the phone saying that it would there in about twenty minutes.

"Jordan, I wish you would have let me buy. After all you're putting me up..." Cal argued.

"If you call me letting you sleep on my couch putting you up...if anything I should be paying you."

Cal's six foot plus frame didn't exactly fit on Jordan's five foot something sofa but Cal had slept in less comfortable situations before. Besides sleep didn't come too soon even though by the time they had turned off the lights they were both drained. The sun was just starting to come up when Cal finally shut his eyes. And when he did he had dreams about the shooting.

"I'm fine Jordan."

Jordan looked at him with a trained doctor's eye. If he slept last night...or for the last few nights she'd be surprised. "Well, you can crash in my bed this afternoon. When I get home from work we'll figure out what to do..."

"He's not _crashing _anywhere near your bed Jordan. At least not over my dead body."

Woody's ice-cold voice came from just outside the door reminding Jordan she had forgotten to shut it.


	7. Do You Wish to Be a Man?

Jordan stood quickly from her seat.

"If you came here looking for a fight then I'd just turn right back around and leave Woody." She warned, standing between him and Cal.

Woody let out a mirthless laugh. "Do you even know WHO you're defending there Jordan?" Woody asked through clenched teeth.

There was a beat of silence as Cal lowered his head and Jordan raised hers higher. "He's your brother Woody." She said almost pleadingly.

Woody shook his head. "I don't have a brother anymore…" he bit back but couldn't conceal the slight crack in his voice or the shine in his eyes. "I don't have anyone." He said holding Jordan's gaze for a long moment before he turned his back on the two people he loved most in the world.

"Go Calvin…Just leave, I don't want you anymore." Woody said trying to keep his voice even before he stalked down the hallway back to autopsy.

Jordan would have stormed after him if she hadn't been so stricken by his professed lack of…anything for her and Cal.

Instead she stood there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water until she got her wits about her; then came the storming.

Jordan stalked down the hallway, her strides almost as long as the 6'3 man she was chasing down. With a slap of her hand to the autopsy room's swinging door Jordan blew into the room and it only took a glance Bug's way for him to get the hint that his presence wasn't needed for the time being.

Once he was gone she turned back on Woody who was trying his best to seem careless.

"You're a real asshole you know that?" She asked and didn't give him time to speak when he turned on her angrily. "If you'd get over yourself for two and a half seconds you'd realize that you just…that you just cut through to the bone on the last two people who had thick enough skin to put up with your bull shit over the past 6 months!" she snapped at him.

Woody laughed again. "Yeah well, that's nothing compared to the lifetime of bull I've heard from him or the four years of it I heard from you." He said grabbing his autopsy report. "I've got work to do." And with that he was gone, leaving Jordan in the room alone with the soft flapping of the swinging door.

"That sounded like it went well.." Cal said with a sad smile when Jordan came back into the room. He knew his brother could be a jerk, hell he even knew he deserved what Woody had said about him in there but he thought it was inexcusable to say what he had to Jordan.

Jordan put a hand on Cal's shoulder. "He didn't really mean it Cal…he's just upset and.."

She stopped when Cal raised a hand. "It's okay Jordan, you don't have to run interference for us I got myself into this hole…maybe he's right.." he said with a sigh. "I should just leave and go back to Wisconsin…you heard him he doesn't wanna see me again." He said quietly like a child being scolded.

"He doesn't mean it Cal…he's just upset, you know that…" Jordan tried to tell him but Cal shook his head again.

He thought of that night, their father turning to watch him run off and the gunshot that followed so close behind that there was no mistaking what had given the shooter the opportunity. His brother wasn't stupid. He was a damn good detective and if he saw that video and knew Cal was on it in some way then he knew what had turned their father's attention away from the robbery that night.

"It's over Jordan…it's just over." He said passing the delivery guy on his way out of her office, not feeling like he had much of an appetite.

* * *

Woody headed back to his office, not wanting to deal with anyone. Lucky for him most of the precinct had already gotten that memo sometime shortly after he came back from being on leave after he was shot. He flopped down in his chair angrily and began to page brusquely through the autopsy report but his eyes didn't read anything on the pages. His mind was consumed with the images he'd watched over and over on his laptop only a few days before. 

As was becoming typical for him, Woody turned off his computer, stuffed the autopsy report under his arm and grabbed his keys before heading back to his apartment. He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to read the report while at the same time trying to ignore the disc sitting by his computer desk that had become his obsession of the past week.

It was only an hour after he got home that he finally gave in and put it back in to watch and only an hour after that that there was a soft, familiar knock at his door and he left the liquid crystal display of his laptop long enough to go for the door with the intent of telling Jordan to screw off for the second time that day.

"Go away Jordan I don't need your help." He said with little less conviction than he had earlier. He was worn out, physically and emotional from the stress his recent discovery and the old wounds it had brought to the surface.

Jordan must have sensed the crack in his emotional wall. "I'm not here to yell at you I just wanna talk Woody." She said gently and placed a hand on the door again. Tentatively Woody reached out his own hand and place it against the smooth door as well as his other hand snuck up on him and unlocked the deadbolt. He didn't bother opening it just walked back to sit in front of the computer slouched in his chair.

Jordan waited a beat before she slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Nigel had filled her in on what all exactly Woody had a hold of in that insignificant looking little jewel case.

Without a word she walked up behind him at the computer and watched the horror Woody already had memorized unfolding in that gas station 16 years ago.

'16 years.' Jordan thought. 'With the emotional turmoil it had caused it might as well have been filmed yesterday.'

Woody watched robotically as the scene unfolded. Shadows. Headlights. Tip of a hat. Guns at their sides. A turn of the head. Not even a second had time to pass on the time count. The flash of a gun. His father sliding to the floor. Dark pool of blood and a radio call.

When the screen went black Jordan rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and was surprised when Woody didn't shrug it away. But she wasn't sure if it was from a need to be touched or apathy to try anymore.

"I'm so sorry Woody." She whispered not knowing what else to say.

Woody sighed. "Why? It's not your fault he's dead….it's Cal's." he said casually and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Come on, why don't you get into bed, you're exhausted." Jordan said taking him by the arm.

"Jordan…just stop." He begged tiredly. "Just…just leave me alone I don't want your help…I don't want anyone's help.." he said slowly.

"…Yeah, well want and need are two different things farm boy.." she whispered and Woody was surprised by a rush of tears.

"Why Jordan? Why do you still want to help me? I've…I've been terrible to you…and I can't….I couldn't save my mother…and…and I couldn't save my father and I let…I raised Cal and took care of him and he's…all this time and I PITIED him." He cried as Jordan gently took him in her arms even as he fought her embrace.

"He doesn't remember our mother…he…he was just a kid when Pop was killed and now…and he…" With a heavy sigh that could only come from a little boy carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders masquerading as a confident together man, Woody slumped into Jordan's arms, giving up the fight against the world.

"I'm tired Jordan…I'm just so tired of all of it..." he cried into her shoulder and slowly, carefully, finally wrapped his arms around her waist, returning her embrace.

Jordan nodded, stroking his back and holding him tightly. "You were just a kid too Woody. It wasn't your fault…none of it…Life rarely turns out the way we want it to."

She said looking off into a past, into a childhood of her own that had gone so terribly wrong. "Sometimes, for some of us, it just turns out worse. I'd like to think we come out stronger from it but sometimes we just come out more battle weary than others." She whispered and slid one hand down to hold one of his.

"What if you've been fighting the battle your whole life?" Woody whispered and Jordan smiled sadly against his head.

"Well…then…you end up like us.." She whispered. "You wear a kind of armor to try and hide the scars. For some of us the armor is shutting everyone out, never letting anyone get close enough to see the scars through the chain mail…" She said looking at the wall across the room. "For others…the armor is nothing more than carefully constructed distractions and slight of hand. Getting the audience to look one way while you hide behind a happy-go-lucky persona and dimples that stretch a mile wide." She said with a sad smile as she rubbed his back.

"So which one am I? Chain mail or the dimples?" Woody asked softly, with a hint of a smile in his voice.

Jordan smiled sadly and lifted his chin, one finger tracing over his dimpled cheeks. "Definitely the dimples." She whispered and held his gaze.

They stared at each other for a long few moments. Before one or the other could make any move though there was a knock at the door and they both shifted around uncomfortably and pulled apart.

"I'll get it." Jordan said patting his shoulder and heading for the door.

Woody watched her go and tried to quickly compose himself as Jordan reached for the handle. He should have guessed it was Cal when she only opened the door halfway but after the past few weeks of sleepless nights and all of truths he'd uncovered Woody couldn't find the energy to tell his brother to get out again much less hit him on the other side of his face.

"Woody just…sit okay, give him a chance to explain himself…" Jordan begged as she ushered Cal into the room, still standing between he and Woody.

He wasn't sure if it was out of apathy or morbid curiosity but Woody just sat back on the couch and nodded.

Cal stood frozen for a moment, a million things running through his head but there was only one thing his lips would form to say.

"It was all my fault.." he said lowering his own head. "Pop seen me at the gas station..he…he pulled up, told me to go home and I did, I mean…he was gonna beat the shit outta me for sure but I just did it…and…and I was on the corner when…"

Woody cut him off short. "I saw the tape." He nodded, letting Cal know he didn't need to hear the rest of the details. "I saw the tape…and I saw you in those shadows…" His voice grew louder with each word, his body leaving the couch as he stalked towards Cal.

"and no matter HOW I look at this I cannot find one GOD DAMNED excuse to make for you this time little brother. Not ONE!" He yelled pointing at Cal over Jordan's shoulder.

Cal hung his head with a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry Woody.." he said still looking at the floor.

"You're SORRY Cal! You're SORRY!" Woody yelled. "This is NOT one of those times where you get to put on the crocodile tears and…and the sob story about not having parents and blaming everything YOU'VE done wrong in your life on our dead parents!" he said feeling his body beginning to shake with rage.

"Woody stop!" Jordan begged seeing Cal growing more and more flustered and finally seeing the two for what they were; a father and son. Not by birth but by circumstance.

"Get out of my sight." Woody spat out. "I don't even want to look at your face right now." He demanded and pointed towards the door, all thoughts of reconciliation gone from him mind right then.


	8. Clarity

Cal glowered for a few seconds before he turned and left. Jordan called out to him but it was too late he was gone. Not trusting her own tongue, Jordan quietly followed. She waited until she was out of the building before she let her tears flow. Under the street light where she parked her car, Jordan looked back up at the window that led to Woody's place.

She pursed her lips and thought to herself that was one of those moments when you think things couldn't possibly get worse...but they do. She tried to remember the word for it, and then it hit her...

"Yeah, it's called life."

Jordan found Cal a half a block away. She rolled down the window...

"Get in...It's a long walk back to Wisconsin. The least I could do is take you back to my place so you can get your stuff..."

Jordan diverted Cal with a pot of coffee when he tried to leave her apartment with is belonging shoved in her bag. She convinced him it was late. His bladder wouldn't take an 18 hour bus ride. She through him a blanket and told him to bunk down again for the night. In the morning when the emotions weren't running so high they could figure out what to do.

The last thing she could remember when she closed her eyes was the look in Woody's eyes. Over the years she has become attuned to the subtle shades of blue. His eyes were a hue of gunmetal gray. The last time she saw them like that was the day before his surgery. That time he was a man that had all but given up on life. The thought made her cold, her sleep light, and her dreams fatal.

Woody waited by the window until he saw the red lights of Jordan's El Camino faded out of sight. He didn't know what hurt worse; the thoughts of his brother being involved in their father's death or the fact that Jordan was now stuck in the middle. Still, he could help but be upset that she'd take it upon herself to intervene.

She had no idea what she was getting involved in. She claimed to know him. How could she?

_He_ didn't even know himself.

He kicked around his apartment doing anything to prevent himself from outing at the security tape one more time. While hitting ping pong balls against the wall, he realized what was supposed to be an instrument of closure had become an all out obsession. He needed to break the cycle somehow someway. His answer came when his neighbor began to pound on the wall claiming her was going to call the police.

"I am the police asshole," he muttered to himself putting the paddle down. His fingers itched to push the Enter button. Instead he walked away. Before he could change his mind, Woody grabbed his jacket and left his apartment.

_A little drive_, at least that's what he told him self. Some fresh air and change of scenery, a new perspective and then maybe he could concentrate on the case he was working earlier.

Trying to push the picture of his brother's whiney face out of his mind, Woody drove around. Even though the temperatures were below freezing, Woody rolled down the windows and turned up the music. He let his mind wander, grasping for some kind of peace. Around midnight he found himself driving down Pearl Street.

He swore at himself when he slowed. Even from the street he could tell that her lights were off. He couldn't help but wonder if Calvin was still there. It didn't surprise him that Cal would weasel his way into a free night's rent. After all, Cal's spent most of his adult life crashed on somebody's couch. Woody only hoped he took his advice and was on his way out of town.

...but still.

Like a message from God there was a parking space open right in front of Jordan's building. Woody pulled in a turned off the engine. Sitting in the bitter cold he swore at himself again. He shoved his cold hands in his pockets and went inside.

It was too late for a social call...but this wasn't social. He needed to set the record straight. He needed her to just back off. He needed her...

"Shit."

Instead of taking the elevator he took the stairs. The hallway was eerily quiet making his steps echo like the building was telling him he was not welcome. It didn't stop him. Woody took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

Jordan set up with a jerk, but she wasn't as fast as Cal. He was already off the sofa and halfway across her living floor before her head left the pillow.

"Are you expecting anybody?" he asked in a stage whisper.

Jordan shook her head and grabbed her robe.

Cal took it upon himself to look out the peephole and let out a mutter curse when he saw Woody's face. Cal wasn't in the mood for round three.

"Who is it?" Jordan asked from a few feet behind.

"It's him. I'll get rid of him."

Cal opened the door a crack, "it's a little late Woody."

Before Cal could shut the door Woody's hand shot out and blocked him. "Damn, it's early Calvin," Woody said in a deceptively jovial voice. "The bars aren't even hopping yet in Wisconsin. I thought you would have been on your way there by now."

"Wood..." Cal sighed.

Woody pushed his way in to the apartment and looked for the blankets on the couch before he dared look at Jordan. When he did he looked past her.

"It looks mighty cozy in here. I thought you drew the line at more then one night Jordan."

"Damn it Woody!" Cal exclaimed. "Leave her alone! You're fight's with me remember!"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the man a prize!"

"Have you been drinking?" Jordan asked with cold concern.

"No, I wish I had. No I was just in the neighborhood and thought you'd stop by and make sure Cal had slunk under the rock he crawled out from. Looks like he couldn't take a hint. I guess drugs, alcohol and just being a damn idiot will do that to ya."

"...Wood," Cal warned again.

"Go home," Jordan said quietly. "You can't come in here throw around insults like you belong..."

Woody would have preferred Cal taking a swing at him. Jordan's words held more of a string. Enough, in fact, to make him stop and look at the floor with a guilt that reminded him that Jordan was an innocent in all of this. Woody was about to mumble some kind of apology when Cal cut in.

"No. No, let him stay. I want to hear what he has to say...because I have a few things I want to get clear myself."

Jordan through her hands up in defeat. "Fine, just don't kill each other. I had to get my floors redone after Malden..." With that, she marched back in her bedroom and all but slammed the glass–paneled door.

Cal couldn't help himself. "Malden?"

Woody waved his hand. He tone was almost calm. It was like Jordan being pissed off at both of them had sparked an unspoken truce "It's a long ass story that still doesn't have any logical answers."

"Should I be intimidated?"

"I am." Woody replied wisely.

He didn't see Jordan's little smirk as she pulled a tshirt over her head in the privacy of her bathroom.

"Wood, we need to talk..."

Woody shoved his hands in his pockets. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to another round of Calvin's apologies and justifications but he owed Jordan that much.

"I'm listening."

"I didn't know it was going to go down like that I would have never..."

"Don't lie to me Calvin."

"Eric. You remember Eric Chapman."

"How could I forget," Woody snorted thinking of a kid that made his life as a chubby preteen a living hell. "What about him?"

"It was a dare. He had these friends. Cousins he called them..."

"You and your _friend's cousins. _At least come up with some new material."

"I'm serious Woody. Eric wanted to hang out. I said sure. They were older and...cool. It was getting late. I knew I should've been home. Pop would be hotter than hell if I didn't have the laundry folded when he got there. But how the hell was I going to say I had to go home to do some lame chore. They said they were bored. Eric said he could get some weed and we could go over to the back 40 of his girlfriend's farm. We could get high and Hank would let me fire the gun he had under the bench seat of his truck..."

Woody listened realizing that his brother not only knew the guy that killed his father, but saw the gun that would be used to kill him. He held his tongue.

"Eric split and we drove to the gas station. Hank said something about picking up some beer. Hell, I wasn't going to say no. They asked me to stand by the door...to keep an eye open for Eric. I didn't realize that they were going to rob the place. Honest. I saw Pop roll up and I knew I was busted. I wasn't in any hurry to meet him...so I just stood there. I didn't know what was going on inside. I was too worried about pop tanning my hide."

"Pop knew..." Woody added.

"Yeah, I think he did. Maybe it was that cop sixth sense or something. He told me to run home. Hell, it was a mile down the road. I thought he was just being a dickhead. I wasn't moving too fast. I was pissed that he was going to make me look like a little kid in front of the guys. The next thing I know there was a bunch of yelling and then two shots. I thought I was going to piss my pants. I ran like hell..."

"And you never came forward."

"Fuck Woody, I was just a kid! Don't tell me you wouldn't have been scared too. Don't tell me you wouldn't have kept your mouth shut too. Because I know better."

_Because I know better. _The words echoed in Woody's head. He couldn't deny it. How many times had Woody kept his mouth shout when he should have been strong enough to say something? Unable to look his brother in the eye, Woody shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. It would be easy to tell Cal not to put this on him.

He couldn't. Life with their dear old man was anything but Norman-Rockwell-esque ...especially for Cal. Woody learned quickly to but the good one and to keep his mouth shut. Cal never did. They blamed his bruises on being a tough little boy.

Suddenly it was all so very clear. Woody was as much to blame for his brother being there that night ...if not totally to blame.


	9. Picture Book

**Chapter 9: Picture Book **

Woody ran a hand through his hair in a way that was always so reminiscent of their father to Cal that it nearly always made him cower from his big brother just a little bit more.

"I'm sorry Woody I just….I'm not sure how much longer I could have kept that to myself before it ate me up inside.." Cal admitted quietly and allowed himself a humorless laugh. "Christ man, God knows I've spent most of my life trying to forget it ever happened.." he said raising his eyes to Woody. "Not that you'd ever let me forget.." he sighed dropping to the couch again with a resigned sigh.

"I'm tired Woody…" Cal said echoing words Woody had said only a day or so earlier to Jordan. "I'm so tired of trying to…to remember Mama…" he said as his eyes clouded with unshed tears. "To…to forget what happened to Pop, it's…exhausting…it's suffocating…" he said looking at his brother standing tall over him.

"Don't you think it's been exhausting for me too Cal?" Woody asked a little more softly than before. "Don't…don't you think that I miss them too? They were my parents too God damnit." Woody choked out and turned his head away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"They still are.." Jordan said suddenly from the door of her room, holding out a picture that Cal had shown her the night before.

The Hoyt's had been married barely half a year when Woody's mother had discovered she was pregnant. They didn't have two coins to rub together but they were young and in love and felt like that would be enough to get them by.

Woody stepped towards Jordan and took the worn picture out of her fingertips. "Where.." he started to whisper but Cal stood from the couch.

"…It's mine." He said moving over to stand beside Woody. "I took it from one of the photo albums under the steps..." Cal explained as he watched Woody thumb at the frayed edges. "There were plenty of pictures in there and I didn't think you'd notice if I just took one…" he said.

"…It was always your favorite, and I guess you're entitled to it…" Woody noted simply and finally allowed himself a smile at the sight of his parents so young he could barely believe they were parents at all. The only evidence of that truth being the little bump in the young brunette's belly where her husband had tenderly set his hands. "How come this is your favorite anyway?" Woody asked wiping his eyes quickly and looking at Cal. "She was pregnant with me, not you." He stated simply and Cal shrugged.

Cal smiled. "I always wondered when you'd finally ask me that.." he said taking the picture back from Woody and looking it over.

"It's because…well if they hadn't had you first…I would have been alone after they both were gone. Like you said yourself Woods…" Cal said softly lifting his eyes to his older brother's. "If it weren't for you keeping tabs…" he whispered looking down at the picture. "I'd have been dead years ago.." Cal said with a ragged sigh. "If I never had you…I never would have known what it meant to be a real man and take responsibility..you showed me that Woody…you showed me what that meant when Pop was gone. You picked up the pieces, you put your own needs aside and you always told me that we'd be okay.." he nodded. "And you know what? Even after everything I've done wrong in my life…all of the close calls, the near misses, the drugs, the alcohol, the gambling…you're still here, being a man..and I'm still here…aspiring to one day be the man you tried so.. damn hard to raise me to be." Cal nodded and let the tears come finally as he looked at the picture again.

"It was my fault that you were there that night if I'd kept a better eye on you, if I'd kept you in instead of letting you go out where I knew Pop would probably catch you and tan your hide..he wouldn't have seen you at that store.." Woody rambled. "He..he wouldn't have stopped to make sure you were outta there..he..he wouldn't have turned and we wouldn't…" Woody said biting back tears.

It was Jordan's turn again to be the voice of reason. She was as surprised as anyone to have found herself in that uncharacteristic position the past few days but she felt like she'd taken on the task admirably.

"Woody stop…" She said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "It wasn't your fault…It wasn't Cal's fault either…" She said. "Like I said…sometimes we just get dealt a crappy hand…My mother died, I don't know where my father is anymore. Your mother was taken away from you before you even had the chance to get to know her. Your father was taken too and that's….it's SO unfair.." She whispered taking one of Woody's hands in one of hers and one of Cal's in the other. "…I know it is. And you can be bitter and angry at the world and walk around with this giant chip on your shoulder your whole life and just..just take the things and the people you DO have for granted." She said looking pointedly between them both. "Or you can honor their memory by being the people your parents dreamed for you to be." She said nodding.

"What if…what if you don't know what they wanted you to be?" Cal asked sounding so much like a child that Jordan, in accordance with her newly adopted role as caretaker of the two men in front of her, reached out to touch his face. "I'm sure…that all your parents wanted for you two was to be healthy, to be happy with yourselves, and to be good men." She said and squeezed Woody's hand gently.

"Now, I know you may have your own opinions about where you each fit into those hopes…but from where I'm standing…I'd say you're well on your ways to being those men." She said with a sad smile. "Your parents would be proud of you right now. You're in the same room, honoring their memories..." She said looking at the picture Cal still had in one hand. "but most importantly, you're together…no matter how long it might be for, right now, you're together." She said looking at them both. "But then you know me, I'm always the first one to try and speak for the dead so.." Jordan said with a soft laugh, chancing a smile.

"Thank you Jordan." Cal whispered. "I think I needed to hear that more than I realized." He said nodding and held the picture to his chest as he leaned down to kiss Jordan's cheek.

"Easy there boy.." Woody said putting a hand on Cal's chest. "Let's not have a repeat of Mary Alice McKenzie.."

With that gentle push Woody edged his way between Cal and Jordan, taking Jordan's cheek in one hand and leaning down to kiss her lips feather light before pulling back.

"She'd be proud of you too Jordan." He whispered glancing at a picture of Jordan's mom sitting on the little table by the couch. "You're a good doctor, a strong woman and one of the best friends I've ever had." Woody said with a soft smile that reached his eyes for the first time Jordan could remember since he was shot.

"Yeah well, I guess we have more in common than we thought huh Farm Boy?" Jordan asked with a little wink.

Woody nodded and looked at Cal and then Jordan again. "I guess we're all just a bunch of motherless children huh?" he asked and moved to the couch, slumping down. Jordan sat down beside him and Cal joined them sitting on Jordan's other side.

"Yep." Jordan sighed.

"So I guess you want us to kiss and make up now huh?" Woody asked laying his head on her shoulder and raising his eyes to Jordan's briefly.

Jordan smiled and put an arm lightly around each of them with a nod.

"I'm sorry I'm….not the man you wanted me to be Woody…all I can do is promise you I'm going to try and get there…" Cal said turning his head into the motherly shoulder Jordan was offering him as he looked past her to his brother.

Woody thought for a long moment then nodded. "I guess that's as much as I should expect right now…" he sighed. "But it's a start…it's a good start.." he added off of Jordan's look.

"...and there is no time like the present," she smiled grabbing her bag and jacket. "I'm going to give you guys a little space..."

"Jordan, it's the middle of the night," Woody began to argue.

She stopped him by cupping her hand over his mouth. "Quit while you are ahead cowboy. Its not he first night I've slept at the morgue, I'm sure it won't be the last. Just don't trash the place. I'll talk to you later."

Cal helped Jordan with her coat. "I don't know how to thank you."

"You can leave some food in my fridge..." she teased. "If I don't see you before you leave it was nice seeing you."

Cal rolled his eyes but didn't comment. Instead he kissed her cheek. "Good bye Jordan."

"I'm sure I'll see you again..." She may have been addressing Cal but her eyes were asking Woody.

Woody simply nodded. Jordan knew it wasn't completely over, but the doors were wide open. All they needed was some time which she was willing to give. On impulse she kissed Cal's cheek giving him some unspoken support. As for Woody, the last thing she did before she walked out the door was to meet his eyes and reiterate to him that he wasn't alone. She'd always be there for him. Woody was still grinning back long after she left.

"She's as special as you described Wood,"

"You don't even know the half of it..."

Reconnecting is a complicated path. The twists and turns of lost trust and life long secrets were hard to dodge. The only way to face them was head on. For Woody and Cal it was a long night. But by the time Woody drove Cal to the bus station they had made a pact to work on trying to find a happy medium.

Woody was left drained. It took him two more days to put the video of his father's death away. The pain was still there. He doubted it would ever truly go away. But for the first time in months Woody felt he could keep the feelings in a place were they couldn't control him anymore.

It was in this frame of mind he found himself at the morgue handing for Jordan's office. The bouquet of flowers in his hand wouldn't be called showy or extravagant but he knew Jordan wouldn't appreciate flash as much as she'd value the sentiment.

Jordan smiled when Woody set the vase on her desk. "What's this?" she asked taking in the soft fragrance.

"Just my way of saying I appreciate everything you did for Cal."

"Cal's fine. If I ever found myself in the market for a roommate..."

"ah...no" Woody laughed. He didn't know if she was kidding or not.

Jordan wiped the smirk off her face and replaced it with a look of concern. "So, how did it go?"

Woody took a deep breath. "...Good. I'm going to fly out there this summer and spend some time with him."

"I'm happy for you Woody. What about...what about your father?"

Woody had been around Jordan enough to know her question wasn't just asking the obvious. After all, her intellect and keen insight were one of the things he most admired...and hated about her. First he answered the obvious. He told her that he put the video away. There were still questions but the answers weren't as important as they once were. As for the rest...

"...My father wasn't a saint Jordan. He had his issues. We all did. Does it make it right? No...but I can't change what happened. Cal understands. It's just going to take time to convince myself."

"I don't have any doubts you will Woody. Trust me. I've been there."

"We're more alike then I ever figured."

"Partners," Jordan smiled.

"Partners...I like that."

* * *


End file.
